


you're so dreamy (i'm stuck on you.)

by krysalla



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:19:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysalla/pseuds/krysalla
Summary: You've got nothing left to wear and Sonny makes an offer you have to refuse.





	you're so dreamy (i'm stuck on you.)

Rain pours outside the window. The plinking of the raindrops against the metal grate of your fire escape is what woke you up. Not the sound of car horns or the light snores that escape from Sonny or even the buzz of your phone, probably hungover friends asking you to catch breakfast with them and get you caught up on last night when you declined to go out with them, opting to spend some much needed time with Sonny.

You lie half on top of his torso, cheek resting against his shoulder as your finger runs over the curve of his cheek, back and forth, never getting bored of the feeling of his skin beneath you. He smiles momentarily before sighing, running his hand over your hair and splaying his hand across your hip. Sunday has finally come around and you have him all to yourself for the first time in a month. Sonny has to get up soon though. He makes it to Sunday mass when he can, but more often than not, he’s stuck at the precinct long before mass even starts. You’ve only joined him a few times, but you bounced your leg through it the whole time, squirming with excitement to finally eat and move freely. Sonny had only smiled when he looked at you. You feel bad for not going with him, you know it’s important to him, but he always tells you that you have no obligation to come along.

The red digits on your alarm clock makes you glare. Seven AM. What you’d give for the opportunity to just spend the entire morning in bed with him. It’s been a while since it’s just been the two of you together without any interruptions, and even though he has Sundays off, he still gets called in and leaves you in bed. 

“Guess I should get off you, huh?” you whisper, nodding your head to the clock. Towards the beginning of your relationship, you would have rather died than place any amount of your weight on him, to be in any state of undress or caught without your makeup and hair done perfectly. You’d burn at the thought and very idea of putting any weight on him, to show any semblance of what you truly look like without careful thought and perfectly positioned limbs and stomach sucked in with shallow breathing and constant concentration. It only stopped the moment Sonny had practically dragged you onto his lap and buried his nose in the crook of your neck during a night in and asked you to relax, his hands stroking down your sides and following the dips and curves and folds that sit there.

Sonny groans beneath you, turning his head and sighs when he takes in the time, “I guess. I’d rather stay in with you though.”

You click your tongue. He should go, he rarely has the time to. Sonny looks at you though, with half-lidded eyes and a tired smile on his face. The hand on your shoulder tightens its grip.

“Me too, but Sonny…” you push yourself up and hover over him. 

He glances up at you, smirking like he knows something you don’t, “I know, I know.”

“What if I said I’ll go with you?”

“That’d be a hell of an incentive for me,” he nudged his nose against your cheek.

“Okay.”

You kiss him, quick and chaste, smiling against his lips and rolling away from him despite his groan of protest and the grabs he makes for your hips. You roll your eyes. He’s always such a baby in the morning.

He’s slow to push the comforter off and swing his legs over the side of the bed. You can hear him pop his knuckles. It’s a disgusting habit, but you’d be a hypocrite if you brought it up. You do the same thing.

The floor is littered with clothing and your drawers and hangers bare of anything to wear. You groan, looking at the heavy, black fabric of your last clean dress. It’s not church appropriate and neither are the tacky Christmas themed Star Wars pyjamas Sonny bought for you as a joke.

“What’s wrong?” Sonny leans over you and pulls a button up from a hanger, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I don’t have anything to wear. Forgot to do laundry yesterday,” you hang your head—although, not very disappointed—and shuffle to pick up your dirty laundry. Better to start it now instead of putting it off again.

“Just wear my shirt?” he picks one off his long-sleeved shirts out of the drawer and tosses it to you.

You furrow your brows as you catch his shirt and have to hold back a scoff. You run your thumb over the soft cotton, “I can’t.”

You throw it back at him. Has he seriously never noticed? He has to be fucking with you. It’s noticeable to everyone else.

He raises an eyebrow and closes the distance between you, “It’s fine. I’ve got three others just like it.”

You let out a dry laugh as he pushes the shirt into your hands and curls his hand around yours, closing your hand into a fist around the fabric, “No, you don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t want to—believe me I do—but I  _ physically  _ can’t, Sonny. I love you, but are you blind? It wouldn’t fit, baby.”

He furrows his brows, letting you drape the shirt over his shoulders, holding the ends of it to drag him closer, “I’m sorry… I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you kiss the corner of his mouth and let the shirt hang around his shoulder, your hands coming to rest on his chest, “Go get ready. I’ll make breakfast when you get back and we can spend the rest of the day in bed.”

You wink at him and gently pat his chest.

He just manages a nod, lips drawn into a thin line. You watch as he moves almost mechanically to get dressed.

When he leaves, he mumbles an ‘I love you’ and pecks your cheek, but it all lacks his usual energy.

* * *

You’re halfway to filling the pie crust with eggs when he shuffles into the kitchen. He’s back earlier than you expected. His hair, usually so carefully styled, is in disarray. Sonny must have run his fingers through it. There are dark patches on the shoulders of his jacket and droplets of water clinging to strands of his hair. He shrugs out of his jacket and opens his mouth and then closes it.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t upset me. I accepted that I wouldn’t fit into any of your shirts a long,  _ long  _ time ago. Just a fact of life, you know?”

“Okay,” his shoulders slump.

“What is it, Carisi?” you unfold your arms and lean forward on the counter.

He gestures flippantly for a moment before giving up. His expression is unreadable, twisted between sadness and maybe even disgust. Your reverie for him is forced away from you, strangled out of you, and you’re ultimately disappointed again. Maybe you should have seen it coming. He hid it pretty well.

“Look, if you don’t like it—don’t like me the way I am—just say it and I’ll pack my shit up,” you snap your fingers, “just like that. I love you but if you can’t love all of me then I’ll go. I’m not changing for anyone.”

“What?” his voice is frazzled, “No, no, don’t do that. I don’t care about that. I mean I do, but I— Jesus. I don’t know what I’m tryna say.”

“Slow down,” you round the counter separating you, taking slow steps towards him. The one thing he has you beat on is height. You may be wider than him, but he is scores taller than you. You grasp his hand in yours and kiss his knuckles, “Tell me when you’re ready, baby.”

His smile is gentle and suddenly, you aren’t disenchanted by him anymore, if anything, he holds your captivation more. There’s only been a handful of people you dated in the past, fewer were serious, and even fewer ended for reasons other than your size. You shake that reverence out of your head to remind yourself that he’s only human. 

“It’s stupid.”

“You’ve said a lot of stupid things before, baby.”

He rolls his eyes, “Smart-ass.”

“Can’t help it,” you let his hand go and take to wrapping your arms around his waist and rest your head against his chest, “Come on. I won’t laugh or anything. Promise.”

“I don’t know,” he hangs his head and holds you tight, “I love you, all of you but it just feels like I can’t protect you or somethin’ and sharing clothes just always seemed like it was part of a relationship. It has been for me. What if I can’t take care of you?”

“Sonny, you are being a little stupid,” you prop your chin up against his sternum to look up at him, “But you do protect me, you know that. Maybe not in some big, grandiose way, but you do. You remind me to lock the door, you bought me pepper spray. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can hold my own in a fight. You’re the one that got me the self-defense lessons.”

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your forehead. The shine in his eyes is back, the mischief and cheer and pure unadulterated love have reappeared.

“Well, if you’re so hung up on wearing each other's clothes… you can just wear mine,” you smirk against his collarbone, nipping gently at the skin there.

He groans, head lolling back and his hand tightening in your hair, “Doll, don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

 


End file.
